


Moment of Truth

by BandanaBlue



Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Love, M/M, Non-Explicit, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 22:27:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17312993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BandanaBlue/pseuds/BandanaBlue
Summary: Keeping what you desire a secret is easy until it is nearly taken from you.





	1. Chapter 1

The day had been a long, hot one, the ride difficult, and the night was already two hours old by the time the two riders made camp. 

After a hastily prepared and consumed supper Hannibal Heyes wearily lowered himself down onto his bedroll. He sat with his back against the trunk of a large oak tree and stretched his boots toward the comforting glow of the campfire.

His partner, Jedediah ‘Kid’ Curry checked the horses for the last time then placed a few more pieces of wood on the fire before ambling over to join him. Heyes, who had been observing him from under half closed eyelids uncrossed his ankles and patted his hands on his thighs as he spread them invitingly. Kid never needed to be asked twice. He unbuckled his gun belt, placed it carefully on the ground within easy reach and settled down between the slim, jean-clad legs, leaning back against Heyes’ chest with a satisfied sigh.

Heyes wrapped his arms around his friend but it was not long before a stirring in his groin prompted his fingers to tug at the thin strip of buckskin which laced up Kid’s red shirt. He eventually pulled it loose and tossed it to one side before sliding a hand through the opening to caress the smooth tanned skin beneath.

Kid arched his back slightly at the intimate touch. These days, whenever they were alone, Heyes didn't seem to be able to keep his hands to himself but, as much as he loved it and loved even more what it most often led to, tonight the blond would be more than satisfied with a simple embrace. He was exhausted. They both were.

It had come as something of a surprise to him how insatiable Heyes could be; he’d never got that impression from any of the saloon girls they had bedded in the past — and those girls did talk. In fact, it always took a lot of persuading to get the man to leave the poker table and, on the few occasions when he did, he didn’t linger for very long over a little relief of the physical kind with his chosen dove. 

There had been times when Kid had found himself speculating whether a consenting male would be more to his friend’s liking and, despite them having been together almost all of their lives, Kid never guessed what Heyes ultimately desired.

It had taken a life-threatening turn of events for him to find out.

 

******

 

“Say that again, _boy!_ ”

“Be glad to.” Kid Curry kept his voice low and steady. “Put your cards on the table and get out. And don’t forget that ace you’re hiding in your cuff.”

“That sounds like you think I’m a cheat.”

“I don’t _think_ you’re a cheat — I _know_.”

“You ready to back up that accusation?”

“Sure.” 

“Then get on your feet. I'm gonna show you what happens to boys who think they can mess with grown men.” The man's angry retort was made through gritted teeth as he got to his feet.

With both hands resting where they could be seen on the green baize of the table in front of him, Hannibal Heyes stayed seated, his heart beat increasing and his pants feeling a little tighter. Despite the obvious danger for his partner he never tired of watching the Kid in action but would never tell him so. The former outlaw leader was confident as to the outcome but not wishing to attract too much attention, especially that of the law, he attempted to catch his partner’s eye. 

Kid Curry didn’t see. His focus was one hundred percent on his opponent.

Sharp scraping sounds on the wooden floorboards heralded chairs all around them urgently being pushed back. By contrast the blond gunman got to his feet slowly and calmly.

Unblinking blue eyes never left the man’s face. They were not distracted by the flutter of cards as they were tossed onto the table, by the apprehensive silence that had suddenly enveloped the room, or by the faintest of tremors in his adversary’s hand. 

A sneer twisted the man’s mouth. “I got something of a reputation with a gun, _boy_ , so you'd better make it good.”

Kid Curry remained perfectly still, staring him down. Patient. Waiting. Then, before anyone could blink there was the unmistakable click of the Colt .45 which had appeared in his hand before the man's pistol had even cleared leather. 

“That good enough?” asked Kid, sardonically.

“This ain’t over,” snarled the card sharp as he snatched up the pile of dollar bills in front of him and stormed out of the saloon.

It was a little after midnight when Heyes and Curry finally cashed in their chips and pushed through the saloon doors onto the boardwalk. Momentarily they stood in the dim lamplight breathing in the cool night air before turning in the direction of the hotel. They hadn’t gone far when a shot rang out, the bullet whistling close by Heyes’ shirt sleeve. More shots followed as the shooter found his range and the two men dived for cover.

When the lead stopped flying Hannibal Heyes cautiously raised his head above the rim of a horse trough to scan the street for a glimpse of the shooter.

“Phew,” he sighed, sliding his revolver back into its holster. “That sure was close.”

“Too... close.”

Heyes tensed at the strain in Kid’s voice. “You hit?”

Curry turned to reveal a bright red stain spreading fast over his white shirt just above the beltline. 

“Bad,” he groaned through clenched teeth. Rolling onto his back his Colt tumbled from his hand and he grasped at his belly as the intense burning from the bullet increased to pure agony. 

Pushing his partner's hands away Heyes urgently pulled at the shirt in order take a better look and stared in horror at the sight that met his eyes. 

"Oh, God," he breathed. 

Pressing a hand firmly over the bloodied flesh in the vain hope of quelling the flow of blood, he silently agreed with the Kid that this was indeed bad. He had seen men die from a wound such as this — some instantly, while others lingered for hours until death came as a blessed release. 

Heyes felt his partner writhe under his hand, then he stilled and his eyes began to close.

“No! No, you don’t. Jed, you stay with me, y’ hear?" said Heyes. "Look at me!” he demanded sharply while sliding his free hand under his partner’s head to raise it. In response, Kid's eyes opened and, despite everything around him appearing to dim, recognized fear in Heyes' face.

Outlawing was a hazardous profession, being a gunman even more so, and Kid Curry had been shot before — several times — most memorably in his arm where the bullet had also cracked the bone and laid him up for months. Each wound had hurt like hell but they were mere scratches compared to this. The pain he was now experiencing totally overwhelmed him and made coherent thought virtually impossible. With a great deal of effort he managed to grind out, “I don’t think...” 

“You’re not gonna leave me.” Heyes did his best to keep his voice steady. He could not envisage a life without the only person he cared about. “Gonna get you to a doctor real quick; get you fixed up.”

Noticing that a number of people had emerged from the saloon to investigate the commotion Heyes called in their direction, “My friend has been shot. Somebody fetch a doctor.” Waiting in case more bullets were forthcoming the saloon patrons stayed where they were and cautiously looked up and down the street. When Kid groaned again and still nobody moved Heyes yelled, "I need help here! NOW!”

One of his fellow poker players, a pleasant man with a shock of white hair and a moustache to match hurried to his aid along with a scruffy lad whose job it was to clear glasses and empty spittoons.

“Jeez, that's an awful lotta blood,” the lad said, staring at the expanding pool of crimson on the boardwalk. 

Quickly shoving Kid's Colt into its holster Heyes bit back an icy retort and asked, “Where’s the doc’s place?” 

“Jus’ over there, mister.” The lad pointed down the street.

“Help me carry him.”

Kid fell silent as they manhandled him the short distance to the doctor’s house. Even in the semi-darkness Heyes noted the trail of dark droplets they left behind them on the dusty street. Silently he prayed that his friend had merely passed out and that he wasn’t going to have to face the unthinkable.

The glow from a hastily lit lamp appeared in the front window and in response to Heyes’ repeated hammering the front door was eventually opened by a tall, blond-haired, clean-shaven young man, who looked as if he was not long out of medical school. 

“My friend’s taken one to the belly, Doc,” said Heyes, pushing his way inside uninvited. “He’s bleeding out.” 

The doctor indicated the way into his surgery where they placed Kid onto the examining table. Much to Heyes’ relief there was a groan. His friend was still alive.

“If I can find the bullet before he loses too much blood, I can maybe save him,” said the doctor peering closely at the wound, “but I need to act fast, so everyone has to leave.”

At the word ‘maybe’ Heyes’ mouth was suddenly dry and he shook his head. “Sorry Doc, but I’m not leaving. He’s my partner and if he’s gonna die then I need to be here.”

“Well, Mister....?”

“Smith. Joshua Smith. He’s Thaddeus Jones.”

“Dale Wiseman." The doctor grabbed a wad of cotton and pressed it against Kid's belly. "If you insist on staying, Mister Smith, you can assist me.”

“Anything you say.” 

“First, we need to get him out of those clothes. You take care of it while I go wash up."

Heyes quickly wrestled both the bloody shirt and henley from Kid's limp body, tugged off the brown boots then undid his gun belt, sliding it from underneath him and setting it carefully on a nearby chair alongside his hat. With fingers still sticky with blood he unfastened the fancy silver belt buckle and fly buttons before grabbing Kid's pants at the ankles and pulling them clear. 

Much to his well-hidden delight Hannibal Heyes had seen his partner naked more times than he could count. However, apart from a few occasions when Kid had been too drunk to get into bed and he'd had to pull his boots off for him, he had never had the pleasure of actually undressing him. He had often dreamed of doing so but certainly not in these circumstances. 

Kid Curry was aware of his friend's presence but barely registered what he was doing. There were things he wanted to say to him, important things, but every time he pieced together a word the pain got in the way and he lost it again. All he appeared capable of doing was mumbling unintelligibly. He could hear Heyes' voice but could not make out the words. Worryingly it sounded as if it was coming from further and further away each time. The sensation that he was teetering on the edge of a dark abyss filled Kid with a level of fear he had never experienced before and worse still, he could see no way to safety — no way back to Heyes.

“Everything will be okay, Jed. Doc’s gonna get that slug outta you any minute now.” 

“Pump’s down the hall,” said the doctor as he stepped back into the room. “Roll up your sleeves and wash your hands and lower arms.” He called after Heyes’ retreating figure, “And use the soap!” 

Heyes sprinted to the kitchen where he followed the instructions to the letter, returning in time to see the doctor remove a narrow drawer which held a selection of surgical implements including a number of blades and curved needles from one of the cabinets, and place it on a nearby table. 

“I’m afraid I don’t have much ether," said Doctor Wiseman as he dripped a colourless liquid onto a piece of cloth stretched over a wire frame and held it over Kid’s nose and mouth. Heyes took a step backward as the pungent smell of the anaesthetic invaded his nostrils. "I will use all I have but it might not last until I find the bullet and stitch the wound. I'll be as quick as I can but if he wakes it will up to you to keep him still.”

“I’ll do whatever you tell me to, Doc.” Heyes managed to swallow the lump in his throat but he couldn't control the catch in his voice as he said, “Just don’t let him die.”

“No guarantees, Mister Smith.”

Handing Heyes a large wad of cotton from a pile on the table the doctor then checked that Kid was unconscious before saying, “I’m going to have to make the wound a little bigger so I can find the bullet. When I’ve got it out, use that to keep the blood away so I can see what damage it has done. Please hold the lamp a little closer.”

The medical man’s face was a picture of concentration as he cut into Kid’s flesh and inserted his fingers into the wound. 

Throughout his life Heyes had met a lot of dangerous men and faced many difficult situations, but nothing had ever made him feel as terrified as he felt right now watching Doctor Wiseman feel for the metal slug. Rather than continue to observe the doctor groping around in his partner’s belly, Heyes concentrated on following the shallow rise and fall of Kid’s chest, half-expecting it to cease at any moment. He jumped as the doctor pulled his bloody fingers free with a triumphant “Got it!” and held up the bullet. 

As instructed, Heyes immediately applied the cotton wad, alarmed to feel how rapidly it got heavy in his hand. He dropped the sodden mass to the floor and grabbed a fresh one. So mesmerized was he by the amount of blood the Kid appeared to be losing, Doctor Wiseman had to physically nudge him out of the way in order to inspect the wound further.

“He's a lucky man. Nothing vital looks to have been damaged. It won't bleed so badly now I've stopped feeling around for the bullet. Please dry the wound as I close it.”

Heyes pulled himself together carefully soaking up any blood as each stitch was put neatly in place. To his relief the bleeding finally slowed to an ooze. He then heaved his unconscious partner into a sitting position while Doctor Wiseman applied a dressing.

“That’s all we can do right now,” said the doctor with a sigh. “Go wash up while I tend to things in here.”

Feeling slightly light-headed Heyes stepped over the bloody clothes and discarded wads of cotton and made his way slowly to the kitchen pump where he stood, staring at Kid's blood as it ran off his trembling hands under the flow of water. Suddenly aware of how hard his heart was pounding he placed both hands on the edge of the sink and, uncertain as to whether he was going to be sick, he bowed his head taking in large gulps of air to try and steady himself. 

Heyes didn’t know how long he had stood there before a hand seized his arm and guided him to a chair. 

“I...I...gotta get back to him,” he mumbled, shaking his head to try and clear it.

“You sit right there for a moment, Mister Smith. I don’t want you passing out,” the doctor said firmly before adding, “Anyway, he’s still unconscious.”

Heyes responded with a weak smile. “You don’t know my partner, Doc. He’ll know if I’m not there. He’s got some sorta sixth sense in that regard. It probably has somethin' to do with him following me around from the minute he learned to walk.”


	2. Chapter 2

Hannibal Heyes stared down at Kid Curry, pale and unmoving but still alive, his mind picturing him not more than half an hour ago outside on the boardwalk, writhing in agony and bleeding profusely. No matter how long Heyes lived he knew that memory would never leave him. 

“It would be wise to move Mister Jones before he wakes up," stated Doctor Wiseman. "There's a room across the hall. Help me lift him, but gently now, we want those stitches to hold."

Heyes looked sadly at the young medic. “Fixing him up is all I can pay for, Doc. I don’t have enough money to pay for a room too.”

“I need to keep a close eye on him for at least a couple of days, Mister Smith. Wounds such as these inevitably result in a fever.”

A fever? Heyes blinked as he was hit by the realization that his partner wasn’t out of danger yet, not by a long way. 

“I suppose I could sell something... our rifles; my watch maybe.”

“Don’t worry about that now; I’m sure you and I can come to an arrangement.” 

Heyes cast a brief questioning look at the doctor. There was something in his tone... a look in his grey eyes...

Once they had placed Kid on the bed in the small bedroom Doctor Wiseman took his stethoscope and carefully listened to the patient's chest. "His heartbeat is weak, a lot weaker than it should be, but steady enough considering the amount of blood he's lost. I'll go fetch something for the pain. He's going to need it." 

The second the doctor left the room Heyes tenderly stroked Kid's pallid cheek with the back of his fingers, jerking his hand away as if he had be burned when he heard footsteps behind him.

“I thought maybe you could do with a drink.” The doctor placed two glasses on the nightstand and poured a generous measure of whiskey into each. He offered one to Heyes who took it gratefully. 

“Here’s to Mister Jones’ recovery,” Doc Wiseman said, raising his own glass. 

“Amen to that,” agreed Heyes, before swallowing the liquor in one gulp.

“Now, I have a number of house calls to make in the morning so I’m going back to bed. You'll watch him tonight?” 

"Sure, Doc."

The doctor downed his own measure and gestured to the bottle. “You’re going to have a long night so you may want a little more of that. Mister Jones will most likely sleep but when he does wake be prepared for him to be disoriented. If he develops a fever get a bowl of cold water and some cloths from the kitchen and try to keep him cool. Should his skin feel cold, however, or if he looks like he's having trouble breathing, come and tell me at once. My room is just next door.” Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a small brown bottle. “This is for the pain — it’s laudanum — the instructions are on the bottle. Can you read?"

Heyes nodded.

Alone with his partner at last Heyes turned the lamp down low, poured himself another whiskey and with a prolonged sigh lowered himself into an old armchair near the bed. 

A little over an hour passed and Kid Curry still hadn’t regained consciousness. Heyes was getting more worried by the minute but was reluctant to disturb the doctor for a second time that night. After what seemed like an eternity of watching to make sure his partner was still breathing, he saw the flicker of an eyelid which was followed by a groan and a scarcely audible word. _Heyes_.

Relief flooding over him Heyes was instantly out of the chair and onto his knees alongside the bed, whispering softly, "Hey, Jed, I'm right here."

Kid slowly turned his head toward the familiar voice, blinked his eyes and tried to focus. “Where...? Where am I?” he croaked.

“You’re at the doc's place.” 

“Feel... strange. Dizzy like.”

“That would be the ether.” 

"Funny... smell."

"That would be the ether, too."

“Hurts. Shot... bad, huh?" 

Heyes swallowed hard before replying, “Pretty bad. The bullet's out and the doc has sewn you up. You gotta lie real still.” His brown eyes watched with concern as his friend made a huge effort to fight the pain and stay conscious. 

After a long minute Kid asked, “Are you okay?"

Heyes managed a tight smile. “Me? Oh, sure. I never get shot. This curly-headed fella I know keeps getting in the way.”

The words were spoken in jest but there was an element of truth in them. There had been one occasion in particular when Heyes was certain Kid had deliberately stepped in the way and taken a bullet meant for him, as well as two other instances he had his suspicions about. He had tried to talk to Kid, but the gunman had made it perfectly clear each time that he didn't want to talk about it.

“Who was it?”

“Don't rightly know." Heyes shrugged. "Maybe that card sharp. Anyway, don't go troubling yourself about that now. You’ve lost a lot of blood so you gotta drink plenty. Think you can take some water?”

Kid nodded but groaned in pain when Heyes attempted to raise him up a little. He managed a few sips of the water before the effort became too much and the last sip went down the wrong way. The resulting coughing fit causing him to slip back into pain-free oblivion.

 

******

Heyes ran his fingers across his unshaven chin then rubbed at his eyes which felt heavy and gritty from lack of sleep. It was mostly fear that had kept him awake for much of the last forty-eight hours — fear that if he slept Kid might inadvertently rip open the increasingly angry-looking wound and bleed to death, and Heyes wouldn't know anything about it. He had also barely touched any of the food Doctor Wiseman had brought him. The whiskey bottle, on the other hand, was empty.

After a brief period of consciousness and having managed some more water which this time Heyes had laced with laudanum, Kid had slept solidly for almost fifteen hours. However, the next time he opened his eyes they were glazed, his face was flushed and he felt hot to the touch.

Heyes had immediately done as instructed and constantly applied cool cloths to his partner's brow. But no matter how hard Heyes worked the fever only worsened and all Curry did was try to fight off his ministrations. On one occasion, while attempting to calm him during a particularly bad period of restlessness, Heyes hadn’t been quick enough in dodging Kid's fast right hand and now sported a large purple bruise on his left cheek.

Again he smoothed away the sweat-soaked curls which clung to Kid's forehead. In his delirium Kid murmured something Heyes couldn’t quite make out but he did catch his name among the jumble of words. Not knowing whether or not his partner could hear him he replied, “Whatever happens, Jed, I'll be here.” 

It was then that he made a decision. 

Heyes was no stranger to self-restraint, especially where the Kid was concerned, but he knew that if the Kid didn’t make it he would never get another chance and so, dipping his head he placed a gentle kiss on his friend's parched lips. 

Blue eyes flickered open and in a fleeting moment of lucidity Kid was struck by the familiarity of a pair of warm, brown eyes but was sure he had never seen them so close before. He licked his lips and tasted — what was that, whiskey? Before he could wonder about it any longer a world of heat, pain and troubled dreams claimed him once more. 

At about the same time the Kid's fever had started the town sheriff, Harold Bagley, had shown up to question Heyes about the shooting. Hiding his discomfort at being in such close proximity to a lawman (albeit one who didn't have a clue as to his true identity) not to mention his irritation at the man's bad timing, the former outlaw leader sat at the kitchen table and answered the sheriff's questions as best he could. It soon became apparent that Mister Smith had no idea who would want to shoot either his partner or himself, except for maybe the card sharp who Kid had outdrawn and, from the account Heyes and one or two of the other poker players had given of the incident in the saloon, there was nobody hanging around town fitting that man's description.

Sheriff Bagley shook Heyes' hand. "Thank you for your co-operation, Mister Smith."

"You're welcome, Sheriff. I just wish I could be of more help. Now, if you don't mind, I need to get back to my friend."

"I'd like to see Mister Jones." 

Reluctant to let the lawman near his delirious partner in case he inadvertently gave away their real names Heyes replied, "Oh, he won’t be able to answer any questions. He’s got a fever."

"I’d still like to see him."

Heyes reluctantly escorted the sheriff down the hall to Kid’s room. He grimaced as he opened the door and heard his friend murmuring, ‘"Wheat. Aaww no, Wheat."

The last thing Heyes wanted was to be associated with their former Devil's Hole Gang member, Wheat Carlson, so he flashed his most disarming smile. "Huh, Thaddeus here is a real farm boy at heart, Sheriff. Been blabbering about his pa's crops all morning." 

"It's surprising what people say when they're fightin' for their lives," said Sheriff Bagley, having noted the blood-stained dressing together with the man's flushed face and sweat-covered torso. "Send the Doc over to my office if he don't make it, will you? I'll need a statement from him if the charge becomes murder."

*****

Doctor Wiseman regarded Thaddeus Jones with a concerned frown. His patient's breathing was erratic and the fever was getting worse. He pulled out his pocket watch and took hold of Kid's wrist.

"Hmmm. His pulse is much too fast and he's really burning up. We need to get that fever down fast or we're going to lose him."

Heyes had been worried before but now felt as if his own heart had stopped. "What can I do?" he croaked.

"It's a bit risky and I wouldn't normally recommend it, but under the circumstances we don't have much choice. We need ice. Go over to the saloon and ask Eddie if he has any in his cellar, will you? Hopefully he still has a little remaining from last winter's cut. Because of the location of the wound I'd rather not immerse him in ice water so we will have to pack it around him."

Heyes didn't hear the doctor's last words; he was already closing the front door.

For several hours Heyes and the doctor worked tirelessly. The large blocks of ice that Heyes had transported across the street in a rickety old wheelbarrow were chipped into small chunks, wrapped in pieces of torn sheet and placed around Kid Curry's neck, under his armpits and along his thighs, being replenished as soon as it melted. When the supply of ice was exhausted the bedding, which was now damp and cold, took its place for the best part of an hour before being replaced by fresh, dry sheets.

Dale Wiseman gave a satisfied nod as he listened to Kid's chest and felt his pulse. "He still needs watching but I think the worst has passed."

On hearing Heyes' bone-weary sigh of "thank God" he looked at the dark-haired man and asked, "How long is it since you slept, Joshua?"

Without taking his eyes away from the Kid Heyes replied, "Oh, I got a couple of hours last night, I think."

"I thought as much. You are no good to your friend if you get sick, so go use the bed in my room." Dale held up a hand before Heyes could protest. "I'll watch Thaddeus."

Heyes was so tired he was almost past caring whether his partner gave away their true identities. "You promise to come get me if he wakes up?"

"I promise." 

*******

Kid Curry woke from a calm, dreamless sleep and turned his head to look at the familiar figure of his partner. When he saw Hannibal Heyes was not seated in the armchair reading a book, he grunted in dismay. His bladder felt like it was about to burst. 

For the past two weeks it seemed to Kid that Heyes had rarely vacated that chair. He was there when he closed his eyes at night and there when he opened them the next morning, ready to help him sit up, eat, shave and attend to any... well, personal business when he needed it.

Kid knew his partner couldn’t be far away because his gun belt was still hanging over the back of the chair. He shifted uncomfortably wondering if there was a chance he could hold on until Heyes returned. Deciding that waiting would most likely result in an embarrassing accident and not wishing to call out in case the doctor was busy with a patient, Kid pulled back the bedclothes and with one hand firmly pressed against his wound, slowly sat up. At first he felt a little dizzy but when the room stopped rocking he eased his legs over the side of the bed and, holding onto the bedpost, stood up.

Once on his feet he looked about for the chamber pot. Not being able to see it he assumed it was under the bed, but not feeling able to bend down to get it he shuffled unsteadily into the hallway and proceeded toward the sound of muted voices. With his hand on the wall for support, he pushed open the first door he came to.

“What’s a fella gotta do around here to—?”

Three startled pairs of eyes met. Hannibal Heyes and Dale Wiseman to see the patient, clad only in his underwear, leaning against the door post and Kid Curry to see his partner with his shirt hanging loose around his bare backside and the doctor undoing his fly buttons.

“ _Shit!_ ” spat Heyes as he grappled with his long johns and jeans pulling them on as fast as he could while his friend turned back down the hallway. Almost stumbling over his own feet he caught up with Kid as he reached his room.

“I can explain!”

“I've no doubt about that, but you’d best find me a pot first ‘cause I’m gonna burst,” Curry said, looking anywhere but at the anxious brown eyes.

Heyes quickly located the chamber pot and, having handed it to his friend, turned his back and hastily tucked in his shirt and buckled up his belt.

Once Kid had finished his business he carefully lowered himself down onto the bed waving away Heyes' offer of assistance.

“Couldn't wait 'til I was outta here, could ya?" he griped.

“It’s not what you think.”

“Sure looked like it."

"If you'll just let me explain..."

"Okay, go ahead. Tell me." Kid quickly held up a hand. "No, don’t tell me. I don’t think I wanna hear the details.”

“I was doing it for you, Jed.”

“For _me!_ ” The sarcasm in Kid’s voice was unmistakable as he hissed, “Jeez, Heyes, if you can't come up with somethin' better 'n that, then you really are slipping. Or maybe the Doc removed your silver tongue the same time he pulled that bullet outta me."

“Dale and me we came to....uh... an arrangement.” Heyes was struggling to find the right words.

“What arrangement?"

“One to pay him for saving your life and for letting us use the room here.”

“You couldn't find some unsuspecting plunger to fleece over at the saloon?”

Accepting his partner's barbed words Heyes sank down into the armchair and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He eventually muttered something that Kid couldn’t quite hear.

“What's that?” asked the blond, sharply.

Raising his head Heyes peered through the strands of hair falling across his eyes and said, “I haven’t been near the saloon since the night you were shot. You have no idea how close you came to dying, Kid. I didn't want to leave you, didn't want you to die alone.”

At the almost desperate tone of Heyes' reply Kid was suddenly shaken from self-absorbed patient back to devoted friend and he took a long hard look at his partner, noting his sunken cheeks and the dark circles under his eyes. It was then that he spotted their bedrolls and rifles propped up in a corner along with their saddlebags. Heyes had obviously checked out of the hotel. 

“Have you been sleepin' in that old chair the whole time?”

“Not the whole time. I've been using my bedroll here on the floor and...”

"And _his bed_."

"I haven't been sleeping there. Only... doing what you walked in on." Heyes dropped his eyes to the floor again at this admission. "I've slept here every night so I could be near if you needed me."

Kid Curry's eyes narrowed. “You're lyin' Heyes. You ain’t been sleepin' at all, have you?" 

Shaking his head Heyes smiled, sadly. “Not much. You know, Kid, I've spent too many years waking up each morning hoping that, when I opened my eyes, all the terrible times we've been through and the bad things we've done — our folks being murdered, the orphanage, the stealing and the running — all that would be a bad dream. Only it wasn’t. So, when you got shot I felt so damn scared that I didn’t want to sleep." 

Noting the puckering of his partner's forehead, Heyes added, "I know it's not logical, but it felt like... if I was awake then you couldn't die." 

******

Later, while Kid dozed, Heyes let himself out onto the front porch and sat in a rocking chair in the warm afternoon sunshine. As he watched the town go about its business he tried to work out the best way to explain himself to the Kid without messing up the relationship that he treasured with his partner.

He had been deep in thought for about an hour when Dale Wiseman stepped out of the front door dressed in a black suit and brushing a few specks of dust off a smart black hat. 

“Ah, there you are, Josh. I’m off to see Mayor Jacobs. Be back in a couple of hours, if anyone wants to know. You fixed things up with Thaddeus?” he asked, placing the hat on his head and running his hand along the brim. “Sure didn’t have him down as the jealous type.”

Heyes looked away. “He’s not.” 

“Well, he’s more than welcome to join us if—“

“No!” Heyes' dark eyes flashed, his objection so vehement he almost yelled. Right now, the thought of another man's hands caressing Kid's body aroused feelings he'd kept hidden — and hidden well — for many years.

Back inside Curry stirred as the sound of his friend’s raised voice penetrated his dreams.

Getting to his feet Heyes fought to bring his temper under control. “We don’t do that.” 

The doctor's eyebrows shot skyward. “You’ve got to be kidding. Handsome fella like that for a partner and you've never had him? You must have tried..."

"Never."

Dale shook his head in admiration. "Well, you’ve got some control, Josh, I’ll give you that.”

Swallowing a caustic reply, Heyes flung open the door, glared over his shoulder at the amused doctor and stepped inside.

“What was that all about?” Kid asked sleepily as Heyes quietly slipped into the room.

“Nothing. Go back to sleep.”

“I heard you raise your voice." With an involuntary grunt Kid eased himself up to rest against the bedstead. "Have you and the Doc had a fight?" 

"I was explaining to him that you and me aren’t, uh... involved, is all.”

Kid nodded his understanding. 

Poking his thumbs through his belt loops and casually leaning back against the closed door Heyes asked, “So, tell me, Kid, when did you work it out?”

“Work what out?” 

"Me, that's what. You didn't seem very surprised to see me with Dale."

"Oh, I guessed a long time ago that it was likely you had somethin' of a hankerin' for men; more than you did for women, anyway."

"You did? When?"

“Back when we was driving herd. I knew about the kind of things that went on away from the camp late at night and when I saw you disappearin’ into the darkness a few times, I figured you were gone too long just to be taking a piss and—”

“I don't recall you asking me where I had been, or what I was doing.”

Kid shrugged. “None of my business.”

A flicker of a smile crossed Heyes' lips as he cast his mind back to more carefree days. “I can’t believe _you_ were never asked.”

"Oh, I was asked — a lot. Didn’t take 'em up on it more 'n twice though.”

As the implication of Kid’s reply sunk in, Heyes' eyes widened. “Are you saying that you...?”

“Those drives were awful long, Heyes. A fella has needs.”

“I had no idea. Why didn't you tell me?”

“I would have, if I was being forced. But I wasn't and anyways, it ain't exactly an easy conversation to have round the campfire." Kid grinned. "Even with your best friend."

"I guess not," agreed Heyes with a shake of his head, at the same time inwardly breathing a sigh of relief that the Kid was still referring to him as his best friend.

Kid Curry pulled his revolver from the holster beside the bed and began to idly flick through the loaded chambers. "So what we gonna do now?" he asked, thoughtfully.

"Do?" Heyes eyed the gun warily.

"About the doc. Does he know who we really are?"

"No."

"You sure?"

" _I_ sure haven't told him."

"So the only hold he has on you is this debt for fixin' me up?"

"That's all." 

"Well, if that's all, Heyes, I think we should head out."

"I dunno, Kid."

For the first time, Kid Curry wondered if it was his imagination or whether he had heard a trace of reluctance in his partner's voice. He raised his intense blue-eyed gaze from his gun. 

"Sounds to me like I should really be askin', 'Do _you_ want to leave?' If you're fixin' to stay here with him, I understand. I don't like the idea of us splittin' up but if that's how you want it to be... I suppose I could head back to Wyoming. I'm sure Lom could find me some work in Porterville."

Hannibal Heyes felt his stomach lurch at the thought of his partner riding away without him. "Hell, no. I don't want to stay here. I thought you might want to leave it a few more days before you tried getting on a horse, is all." Heyes did a quick mental calculation and shrugged, "I've probably paid what we owe." 

Kid clicked the hammer of his Colt back and forth a few times as he considered this, then he asked, "He won't need a little persuadin' that the debt's been paid?"

Brown eyes glanced again at the revolver in the gunman's hand. "I don't think there will be any need for 'a little persuading'." 

 

******

Rolling onto his back Kid Curry peered through the semi-darkness of the room toward the old armchair before turning his attention to the open bedroll on the floor. Heyes was not in either of them and if he was not back soon he could assume that his friend's absence wasn't merely due to a visit to the outhouse. Kid didn't have long to wait before a familiar deep, throaty chuckle could be heard coming from the other side of the wall. His brow creased into a frown. 

For as long as he could remember their relationship had always been the same. They enjoyed one another's company, watched each other's backs and generally looked out for each other. There was no denying there had been the occasional fight, mostly in their teens when they were both feeling their feet, but there had been one or two instances in the Devil's Hole days when they disagreed over one of Heyes' plans enough to come to blows. But, no partnership was without its tensions, especially now they had their sights on the ultimate goal for wanted men — an amnesty from the Governor of Wyoming.

A squeaking of bedsprings followed by a low moan made Kid mumble, "Aww, no", abandon his musings, bury his head between his pillows and pull the bedclothes up to cover his ears. 

Earlier, while they were discussing the doctor, Kid had been surprised to experience an overwhelming urge to feel his gun in his hand. That kind of thing didn't happen too often, only when he felt really strongly about something, or someone. Jealousy was an emotion Kid rarely experienced but right now the thought of Heyes being close to a man didn't sit well with him at all. A man that wasn't Kid Curry, that is. In fact, he was shocked to realize that how he felt about the _way_ his partner was having sex was not as important as _whom_ he was doing it with.


	3. Chapter 3

The ride to the next town took a lot longer than either of them had anticipated, so that by the time they reined in their horses outside the small hotel Kid Curry's face was pale and drawn. Sliding in a rather ungainly fashion from the saddle he propped himself up against the hitching rail while Heyes secured their horses and once inside the hotel lobby his hand gripped Heyes' shoulder to stop himself from swaying as they signed the register. 

Concerned that they may have left Doctor Wiseman's care too soon Heyes placed his arm firmly around his friend to help him up the stairs. Although breathing heavily at the effort Kid didn’t make a sound, but Heyes knew he had to be in pain; he could feel Kid's body tense with each riser and the gunman hadn't made even the slightest effort to reject his help.

The room, with its lace-clad window overlooking the main street, was furnished with a large brass bed, a dresser, and a small table next to a worn leather armchair and, despite the shabby appearance of the building's exterior, it looked clean and smelled surprisingly fresh.

Heyes plucked Kid's hat from his head and dropped it on the bedpost while his partner gratefully sank down onto the quilt and lay back with a groan. He then wasted no time in pulling off his boots and removing the gun belt which the stubborn gunman had insisted on wearing despite Heyes' concern that, once in the saddle, it could press against his wound.

“How much you hurtin'?” he asked while arranging the thin pillows. “Because there's still some laudanum left.” Quickly filling a glass with water from the pitcher on the dresser Heyes placed it on the nightstand and stood the small brown bottle alongside it.

“I’ll be alright — so long as it don’t get worse.”

"Want something to eat?" 

"I ain't hungry. Too tired." Kid chuckled, humourlessly as he strove to keep his eyes open. "Bet you never thought you'd hear me say that, huh?"

Heyes smiled affectionately at his habitually hungry friend. “Maybe later then. Now, if you’re sure you don’t need anything I’ll go put the horses up at the livery then take a look around town. Make sure there aren't any familiar faces.” Heyes added a knowing look.

“Good idea." 

"I might look in at the saloon too. See if I can sit in on a few hands of poker; we need the money." 

"Sure, Heyes. Take your time." Curry closed his eyes. 

Several hours later Kid awoke to a thread of moonlight coming through a gap in the curtains. Wondering how long he had slept he waited until his eyes had adjusted then looked around the room. He was surprised to see his friend not in the bed next to him, but chin in hand dozing in the armchair.

Sensing movement in the bed Heyes eyes opened. “You okay?” 

"Yeah. Pain's eased. What time is it?"

Heyes' watch lay on the table in front of him. He leaned forward and squinted at the dial. "A little after two." 

“What you doin' sleepin' over there?” queried Kid. “Bed’s plenty big enough for two.”

“I know, but I thought you wouldn't wanna sleep in the same bed as me anymore.” Heyes smiled wryly. “I just checked us in the same as I usually do, didn’t think to ask the desk clerk how many beds there were. Guess I’ll have to remember that in future. Maybe even ask for two rooms.”

“What are you talkin' about?”

“Now that you know—”

“Heyes, I told you, I’ve always kinda known. Anyway, nothin's changed. We’re still partners, ain’t we? Still friends?”

“For as long as you want to be, Kid.”

“Well then, come over here. You’ve done enough sleepin' in a chair to last a lifetime.” Kid flipped the bedclothes back invitingly on the vacant side of the bed. 

“You sure about this?”

"Of course I'm sure."

"I can always go ask if they've got another room."

"At two in the morning?"

Heyes shrugged. "I could try." 

Kid shook his head and growled, “Heyes, get over here right now or I'm reachin' for my gun.”

With a sharp intake of breath Heyes momentarily hesitated, finding the prospect of being forced into bed at gunpoint by his shootist partner rather appealing. Snatching up his watch and placing it in his vest pocket he walked over to the bed, thankful for the darkness hiding the tell-tale swelling at his crotch. 

******

The following morning Hannibal Heyes sat on the edge of the bed and looked appraisingly at the neat row of stitches in Kid's belly. There had not been any bleeding for some time, the skin surrounding them was no longer an angry vermillion and most of the bruising had faded to a dirty yellow.

"These stitches can come out now," he said. "I asked around yesterday and was told they don’t have a regular doctor here, only a dentist and he mostly looks after broken bones — and teeth, of course. So, it looks like I'll have to do it."

Kid frowned dubiously. "Uh, I dunno, Heyes."

"It'll be alright," his partner assured him. "Dale told me how, even gave me a pair of tweezers and some scissors. I didn't need them but, I took them anyway. Didn’t want him to find out about that little set of 'tools' I still keep in the lining of my coat; he might've started asking awkward questions.” 

Kid weighed up his options. A backwoods dentist or his trusted partner. "Maybe later," he said before adding, “I'm real glad we're away from there, Heyes. He was using you." 

"The way I see it, we were using each other."

"Well, _I_ didn't care for the _way_ he was using you."

For one of only a handful of times in his adult life Heyes felt a blush rise in his cheeks. He quickly turned away in an effort to bring it under control. "Kept you alive and that's what matters."

Recalling what he had overheard through the wall the other night Kid doubted Heyes' motivation was entirely down to owing the doctor money but he decided to keep these thoughts to himself. Instead, he said, "Well, I didn’t really see Dale as bein' your kinda fella, anyway.”

Heyes crooked an amused eyebrow at Kid. “My kinda fella?! What makes you think I like a particular kind?”

“Don't everyone? I'm always attracted to girls with blonde hair, ain't I?”

“Kid, you're attracted to girls with any colour hair!”

“So, do you look at all kinds of men then?” Although Kid felt uncomfortable asking this, he couldn’t help being curious. Here was someone who he’d been close friends with all his life, partners leading a notorious outlaw gang for six years, and who he thought he knew almost as well as he knew himself.

Heyes, on the other hand, was not entirely comfortable with what he may ultimately have to reveal, but he no longer wanted to lie to his best friend. “Not really,” he mumbled.

“So, what kind _do_ you like?” persisted Kid.

In an uncharacteristically clumsy attempt to change the subject, Heyes said, “You really should get some more rest, Kid; we had a long ride yesterday." He stood and sauntered over to the door. "I'll go down and get myself some coffee and while I'm there I'll see if I can get you something to eat. You've gotta be hungry. Would a sandwich be alright or do you feel like something hot? Chicken soup, maybe?" 

“C’mon, Heyes, tell me what kind.” Curry knew when Heyes was stalling.

“I can help you try those stairs again later, if you like. Then tomorrow morning you could maybe make it down to the dining room for breakfast." He reached for the doorknob. "We could take a walk around town if you feel up—"

“ _What kind?!_ ”

Heyes turned, his eyes searching the room as if he hoped to find an answer lurking in one of the corners — an answer that would enable him to avoid the truth. When nothing was forthcoming he took a deep breath and sighed out, “Your kind.”

“There! That wasn't so hard! I don't know why you was reluctant to say it, Heyes. It don't matter to me if you like fellas with blond hair.”

Heyes' heart was pounding fit to bust through his ribs. His mouth felt dry. Here it was, after all these years. The moment of truth. 

Looking straight into the cornflower-blue eyes he said, “No, not just _any_ fellas with blond hair, Jed. _You_. It’s always been you.”

Before Kid had a chance to respond Heyes let himself out into the hallway. Fighting off a feeling of panic he closed the door and leaned back against the wall, breathing heavily. While Kid appeared to have accepted his sexual preference without question, Heyes was worried that the long overdue admission that Kid alone was the object of his desire may not be received quite so well. 

Heyes figured that, in his current physical state, his partner would not be able to punch too hard and, on a really positive note he knew Kid would never shoot him. The thought that he might up and ride out of his life was a distinct possibility and this worried him the most. Facing the remainder of his days without Kid Curry filled Heyes with dread. 

Although he knew it would not change anything and would only temporarily make him feel better Heyes decided he needed a drink or two so he pushed himself away from the wall and made his way downstairs. Still thinking of his partner's welfare, however, he stopped at the front desk to ask for a sandwich and a pot of coffee to be delivered to their room before striding purposefully across the street to the saloon. 

Upstairs, Kid stared at the door, especially the gaping void that his partner had left behind. Had he heard him right? Had he really said he was only attracted _to him_? 

Kid Curry had never been in doubt that he was handsome. With his baby-faced good looks and country boy charm he certainly didn't have trouble attracting the ladies, but had never been given any reason to think that his partner was attracted to him too. A long time ago, before the bid for amnesty had necessitated the use of the Smith and Jones aliases, Heyes had perfected the art of hiding who he really was. That was what had made him such an accomplished conman back in their grifting days and meant he was very adept at hiding his personal feelings too. 

Desperately searching his memory the only occasion Kid could recall his partner making any comment about his looks was when he sported a moustache for a short time. Heyes had hated it and griped about it so often that, in order to keep the peace, he eventually capitulated and shaved it off. 

Kid also considered the countless times the two of them had shared a room and often, like last night, slept in the same bed. There had even been times that necessitated huddling close to each other when combined body warmth was the only way to save them from freezing to death. They had also swum naked in lakes or rivers, even taken baths together in the same tub to save a few precious cents. He had to admit, there had always been an element of shared intimacy in their lives; neither of them thought twice before touching each other, which they did quite often — a pat on the back, or a touch on the arm or knee. Kid wondered whether he ought to read any significance into that now.

Heyes' winning smile wasn't the only thing that drew people to him — men as well as women. He could ooze charm and charisma by the bucket load, and no doubt seduce whoever he wanted. The more he thought about it, the more Kid began to wonder why his partner had never attempted to seduce him. In the end he concluded that maybe he had tried, but done it so subtly that Kid had not recognized it for what it was and dismissed it as one of Heyes little quirks.

With his brain in a whirl Kid pulled a tin of gun oil and an old rag from his saddlebag, picked up his holster and ambled over to the table by the window. Maybe cleaning his pistol would help him focus and make sense of it all. With a finger he eased back the lace curtain in time to see Heyes pushing through the swing doors of the saloon. He knew all too well that was where Heyes would head in order to lose himself in a few hands of poker and a few drinks. 

A vague recollection of sultry brown eyes accompanied by the taste of whiskey on his lips suddenly hit him. _Whoa! What was that? Had Heyes kissed him?_

A sharp rap on the door jolted him out of his reverie. 

"Mister Jones?" enquired a newly-broken male voice.

"Who wants to know?"

"I've brought some coffee and sandwiches, sir, at Mister Smith's request."

"Door's not locked."

An apron-clad youth from the hotel kitchen entered carrying a tray complete with coffee pot, mug, and a large steak sandwich, all of which he placed on the table by the window.

"Will there be anything else, sir?"

"No, thanks." 

Then, as the young man was about to close the door an idea flashed into Kid Curry's brain and he called after him. "As a matter of fact, there is something..." 

 

*******

 

Hannibal Heyes knocked twice, paused, then knocked three times.

Surprised at not hearing the rattle of a key in the lock, he took hold of the doorknob and turned it. Finding the door unlocked he cautiously pushed it open and was immediately hit by two scents which, to him, were quintessentially Jedediah Curry, those of gun oil and soap. Heyes had fully expected to be greeted by the barrel of a cocked Colt .45, but instead saw a galvanized slipper bath full of suds taking up the majority of the floor space with an extremely relaxed-looking Kid Curry in it. Feeling both surprised and relieved in equal measure his feet appeared to be momentarily rooted to the spot.

"Don't just stand there," grumbled Kid. "Close the door."

"Did you know this door was unlocked and who helped you get in that bath?" asked Heyes, as he hastily shut the door and turned the key.

"One, I didn't bother lock it coz I've got my gun right here." Kid indicated the shiny, freshly oiled Colt hanging on the bedpost within inches of his right hand. "And two... nobody, I _am_ capable of getting in a bath, y' know."

"Dale said you weren't to take a bath, even with my help, what with you having stitches an' all."

Kid narrowed his eyes sceptically. "Dale didn't want you near me while I was naked, _is all_ , and you said yourself they can come out now so it must be okay, right?"

Heyes gestured with the half-full whiskey bottle that he had brought back from the saloon. "Want one?" He pulled open the top drawer of the dresser and removed two small glasses. 

"Sure, but by the look of that bottle you've already had plenty."

"It wasn't full when I bought it. Anyway," Heyes added with a cheeky smile as he placed a full glass in Kid's soapy hand, "you know I don't drink much while I'm 'fleecing plungers'."

Curry flashed a grin in return before raising his glass in salute and swallowing a large mouthful. Resting his head back against the edge of the bath he closed his eyes and let the strong liquor burn its way down his throat. "How much did you win?"

"Enough." Heyes took a wad of paper money from his pocket and tossed it nonchalantly onto the dresser. "Don't think we need worry about getting a job for a couple of weeks, maybe longer if all the poker players in town are as bad as that bunch."

"I don't think I'm up to high-tailin' it outta here yet, Heyes, so don't go pissing anyone off."

"I won't. Not until you can be there to watch my back, anyways." Sipping his drink, Heyes stared out of the window at the darkening street while his partner continued to laze in the bath. 

"Heyes?"

"Hmm?"

"I wanna get out now but it's gotten real slippery. Would you help me?"

"Sure."

Draining his whiskey glass Heyes almost choked as he turned to see Kid standing stark naked, silvery drops of water hanging from dark blond curls and rivulets of soapy water running down his firm, muscular body. _Jeez!_ Had Kid not fully understood his earlier confession? 

"Where's the towel?" he croaked, the harsh liquor still catching his throat.

"There." Kid pointed to the floor on the opposite side of the bath. Heyes deliberately averted his gaze as he crossed the room and bent to retrieve it, but as he straightened he found his eyes momentarily level with a tangle of pubic hair and a more than adequate set of private parts. Heyes thrust the towel at his friend's chest. "Put that round yourself, then I'll help ya."

Once Kid was rubbing himself down and pulling on a clean pair of long johns Heyes rifled through the pockets of his old grey coat and pulled out a small tool roll. 

"Now you've had a soak it's probably a good time to take out those stitches," he said, removing the tweezers and scissors and holding them over the bath to pour a little of the whiskey over them.

"Jeez, there I was all nice and relaxed — not anymore," grouched Kid as he lay down on the bed.

"Anyone would think you had never been shot before."

"I may have taken a few bullets, but never in the belly! It don't feel the same as an arm or leg, you know." Kid eased his long johns down to his hips revealing the neat row of stitches and closed his eyes.

"Don't you want to see what I'm doing?"

The blond head shook. "Uh-uh. Makes me nauseous even thinkin' about it."

Raising his eyebrows at his friend's rare lack of fortitude, Heyes asked, "Ready?"

"Get on with it will ya, before I change my mind about lettin' you do it."

"Sheesh, I can tell you're feeling better. Back to your usual proddy self."

"I'll show you proddy, Heyes, if ya keep yappin' instead of snippin'!"

Heyes smiled to himself then cut the first suture near the knot and pulled the other end with the tweezers.

"Ugh, that feels weird," muttered Kid, swallowing hard.

"If they all come out as easy at that one, Kid, this won't take long." 

"And, if they don't?!"

Heyes quickly went back to work and true to his word, was finished in less than a minute. "All done!" he said, a note of satisfaction in his voice.

Kid Curry warily opened one eye to see his grinning partner pointing to a crimson scar bordered by two rows of small red dots where the stitches had been. 

"Y' know, that actually feels pretty good. Not so... tight." Kid pulled up his long johns before asking, "You gonna have a bath while it's here?"

Hannibal Heyes regarded the grey, tepid water and yawned. It was getting late. "No, I'll use the bath house tomorrow," he replied. "I'll just go find someone to empty it." 

Kid put his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. His plan had not worked as he had expected. If Heyes' earlier confession had been the truth he was impressed with his self-control. Kid was sure that if he had been eye level with a woman's intimate parts he wouldn't have been able to show the same level of restraint. Heck, he'd never managed it yet! 

It was then that a terrible thought occurred to him. What if his genius of a partner was bored with sitting around playing nursemaid these past few weeks and, having already been caught with Dale, had decided to amuse himself by fooling with his partner, seeing just how far he could push him? Kid Curry usually prided himself on being able to tell when Heyes was making something up, but what if the ether and the fever had somehow muddled his brain?

It took two members of the hotel staff, equipped with buckets and a mop, a few trips up and down the stairs to empty and remove the bath but as soon as they were finished Heyes locked the door, undressed down to his underwear, turned out the lamp and slid under the covers on the opposite side of the bed. 

Kid lay with his back to his friend, all the while turning his misgivings over and over in his mind. Could Heyes even consider saying something so meaningful as part of a prank? He hoped not. The thought hurt Kid deeply as well as giving him an unexpected sense of disappointment. Despite this cocktail of emotions, he finally drifted off to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

It was not the light from the full moon spilling across the bed which roused Heyes from a deep sleep, it was a sound. Groggily he blinked his eyes and listened. There it was again. A mumbling, fragmented and disturbed. Suddenly realizing where he had heard that sound before, he turned over to look at his partner.

"Oh, no, not again!" he groaned, propping himself up on one elbow and staring at the beads of sweat on Kid's face. Curry's head rolled from side to side.

Filled with self-recrimination that somehow removing the stitches had caused another fever Heyes edged closer and felt the damp forehead. He then eased the quilt back a little and placed his hand on the man's bare chest. It felt hot and at his touch Curry's breathing increased and his mumbling seemed to take on a more urgent note.

"Kid, wake up." 

When there was no response Heyes cupped Kid's face in one hand and tapped his cheek with the other. "C'mon, Jed," he pleaded.

Pulled abruptly from his slumber the blue eyes snapped open. "What's goin' on? Is everything alright?" he asked, breathlessly. 

Relieved at the sound of his partner's voice, Hannibal Heyes flopped back onto his pillow. "I was about to ask you that same question. You're covered in sweat. I thought you were running another fever."

"I feel alright." 

"Must have been a nightmare. Want to tell me about it?"

"No."

Understanding, Heyes settled back to sleep and Kid pulled up the covers that Heyes had thrown aside and stared at his partner's back. 

He had not been having a nightmare, only a dream and a tantalizing one at that. No wonder he had broken into a sweat. When Heyes had whispered his name to wake him, this time he could only smell the whiskey not taste it, but he still could not rid himself of the thought of that kiss. Involuntarily his right hand drifted under the covers to squeeze his throbbing member. 

The night wore on but, try as he might, sleep now eluded him and Kid Curry's uncharacteristic restlessness eventually disturbed his partner.

"What's the matter, Kid? That dream keeping you awake?"

"I guess." 

"You had a lot of nightmares back at the Home, remember?" 

"Unfortunately I do. I could never get back to sleep then either."

"You did, but only after I climbed in with you." Heyes sighed at the memory. "I lost count of how many times I had my hide tanned after being caught in your bed. Always tried to wake up before matron came in but..." 

"I'm sorry, Heyes. You took a lot of beatings because of me. I should've got into _your_ bed, then it would have been me who got the switch instead of you. After all, they were my nightmares!"

Heyes glanced sideways at his half-naked partner and his pulse quickened. "I bet you can't remember," he challenged, hopefully, re-arranging his pillow so that he could sit up slightly. 

"Sure I can." Kid pulled at his own pillow before leaning back into the nook Heyes had made between his henley-clad torso and the arm he now extended. "We used to lay like this." 

A groan almost escaped Heyes' throat and his groin tingled as his friend wriggled a little until he was comfortable. The Kid felt warm, his hair, though damp with sweat, still retained the sweet scent from the soap he had used earlier. Heyes inhaled him as deeply as he dared. 

Kid Curry relaxed against his friend, feeling the rise and fall of his ribs and despite his earlier misgivings he reached up and pulled Heyes' arm over his shoulder so that the long, sensitive fingers could rest on his bare skin. Heyes raised his eyebrows but didn't voice his surprise. They stayed like this for a while, returning to a rare, simple moment of comfort from their childhood and listening to the sounds of the night outside the window. 

Eventually Kid murmured, "I know you kissed me."

Heyes' half closed eyes widened. "What?"

"Back at the doc's. You. Kissed. Me."

"You must have been hallucinating. That was a real bad fever," Heyes offered by way of explanation. He moved to pull his hand away but Kid held it firmly in place.

The blond head rolled back and forth against his shoulder. "Uh-uh. I know it was you coz I saw brown eyes. I could taste whiskey on my lips too and _I_ sure hadn't been drinkin'."

"Oh." Hannibal Heyes knew his friend probably had more to say so he stayed quiet and waited. After a minute or two, Kid broke the silence again. 

"What you said this afternoon, Heyes... that you was only interested in me. Was that the honest truth?"

"Of course. Do you think I'd say something like that if it wasn't?"

"That's what I've been tryin' to work out. I don't understand why, if you felt that way all this time, you never tried to... you know, seduce me or somethin'. I don't ever recall you tryin'."

"Huh, you may not believe this Kid, but I happen to hold you in very high regard. I would never do that, not unless I was certain you'd be willing." 

"But, how would you know if I was willing? You never asked!"

"That was because the way I felt about you was never only about sex." Heyes hesitated then heaved a sigh. "I guess you'd better hear it all."

"Now what's that supposed to mean? You just told me that was the truth." Kid let go of Heyes' wrist and a hard edge crept into his voice. "Heyes, if you're foolin' with me, even a little, I swear I'll—"

Easing his partner forward Heyes shuffled round on his knees to face him. "Okay, listen now. When I said that it's always been you, I didn't just mean your looks, Kid. I meant _you_ ," he said, earnestly. "Ever since we were kids I knew I couldn't live without you, but what it took me a while to realize, was why." Heyes looked deep into his partner's eyes. "I love you, Jed. I've always been in love with you."

Kid stared at his friend. Except for the thrill of robbing a bank back in their outlawing days, he had never heard Heyes say he loved anything, let alone any _body_. 

"I can't believe you've kept somethin' like that inside o' ya all these years." 

"It wasn't always easy hiding how I felt, but I decided a long time ago that telling you could change everything. Saying those three little words out loud was too much of a gamble, even for me; I didn't like the odds. I could've lost you and I couldn't bear that. As long as you were alongside me that was all that mattered. Then, today when I came back from the saloon and found you still here, taking a bath like it's every day a man tells you he wants you—" 

Heyes stopped abruptly and gripped Kid's shoulders. "Hold on a minute! Now I get it. You were trying to push me — get me to make a move on you. Kid, I've seen you take plenty of baths and managed to control myself." He shook his head with a rueful smile. "I do have to admit though, almost pushing that johnson of yours in my face was one helluva play, I—"

"You plannin' on doin' it again?" Kid interrupted, as images from his dream flashed vividly through his mind.

"Doing what?"

"Kissing me."

Desperately trying to work out exactly what Kid wanted him to say Heyes searched his partner's face for a clue. Deciding that this was a time for action rather than words he uncharacteristically ignored the odds and slowly slid one hand around the back of Kid's neck, leaned in and kissed him; only this time he boldly slid his tongue between the tempting lips.

When he pulled back Heyes anxiously waited for a reaction, one which he hoped wouldn't necessitate raiding the hotel kitchen in search of a piece of steak to soothe a black eye.

"Hmm, now that felt different." Thoughtfully, Kid ran the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip.

"Different to what?" 

"To how it felt in my dream."

"Oh, I get it now, you were dreaming about kissing a girl." Heyes nodded his head knowingly. "That figures." 

"It wasn't a girl, Heyes, it was you. You thought I had a fever because I was sweatin'? Well, that was coz kissing wasn't all we was doin' and I was about to shoot my load. Then you woke me up!" 

"Ohhhh." The corners of Heyes' mouth twitched. 

"It ain't funny. And I don't reckon it's good for a man to stop sudden like, neither!"

Ignoring the erection which was now trying to push through his long johns Heyes asked, "Have you had a dream like that before?" adding for clarification, "About me, I mean."

"Nope, but ever since I walked in on you and Dale I've been kinda wonderin' how it might be if it was you and me. Then, a couple of nights back, I heard Dale's bed squeaking." Seeing his partner's mouth open in order to deny any involvement, Kid held up his hand. "There's no use denyin' it, Heyes, I know you was with him." Heyes sat back on his heels and closed his mouth. "I hated the thought of you being in his bed so bad, I wanted to march right in there with my gun and..." 

Kid stopped and took a breath; he could feel his temper rising at the memory. "I guess what I'm tryin' to say is, I wanted it to be me making those bedsprings squeak — not him." 

A slow, wide, dimple-revealing grin spread across Heyes' face, the kind Kid used to see when his partner had successfully cracked a safe. "Kid, you have no idea how much I've longed for you to make my bedsprings squeak." 

Curry smiled back but a look of concern swiftly took its place. "Heyes, I didn't really see much on those cattle drives so I don't know a whole lot about when two men..." He searched for the right words then blurted out, "Well, let's say I always figured there was more to it than some old cowpoke suckin' my dick."

Heyes couldn't help but chuckle. "You figured right."

"But, doin' what you and Dale were doin', don't it hurt?"

"Not if you do it right, it don't." Heyes gently ran a thumb over the blush in his friend's cheek. "Look, Kid, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. We'll take things real slow. I've waited all my life to be with you; I can wait a little longer."

******

 

Kid Curry shifted under Heyes' heavy embrace to release his belt buckle along with the top button of his pants.

"Whatcha doing?" Heyes asked, sleepily.

"Undoing my pants."

"Oh, I thought you'd be too tired."

"I am too tired, Heyes. My belt happens to be diggin' into that doggone scar, is all."

"Still hurts, huh?"

"A little, but you wanna know somethin'?"

"What?"

"I'm kinda thankful I stopped that card sharp's bullet."

"Thankful?!"

"Yeah. At first I was real mad and I thought about tracking him down to show him how he would feel with a bullet in his belly, but now I might buy him a drink instead."

Heyes shook his head. "Sheesh, I'll never figure you out, Kid."

"Well, the way I see it — if I hadn't been shot real bad, you'd never have told me how you felt and then _I'd_ never have worked out how I felt about _you_. We'd have just been regular trail partners 'til the end of our days." 

"We wouldn't be enjoying each other the way we do, that's for sure." 

Hearing the smile in Heyes' voice Kid smiled too. "Ain't that the truth."


End file.
